


we both have broken edges but i think they fit together nicely

by bpdcerberus



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, the foxhole court - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Other, Sort of a character study, touches on both andrew and kevins respective traumas, you can choose to take this shippy or platonic it can be either tbt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:51:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdcerberus/pseuds/bpdcerberus
Summary: Kevin folded his arms on the table, elbows still in the same place. He had no heat in his gaze or his voice as he said, "Is broken a bad thing?""Yes." Andrew hissed.





	we both have broken edges but i think they fit together nicely

The two of them sat across from each other. Andrews soggy looking sandwich sat on the tray in front of him. He was quietly sipping his soda from a bright blue straw and staring Kevin in the eye. Kevin had his hands folded together in front of his mouth, elbows braced on the table.

"Stop it," Andrew said, without specifying what Kevin was doing wrong. The other boy quirked a dark eyebrow.

"Stop what?"

Andrew looked out one of the dark windows of the convenience-store-slash-Subway. After a long silence, Andrew finally said, "Stop looking at me like you're trying to solve me." 

"I'm just looking at you," Kevin replied. He sounded tired. His shoulders sagged and he had dark circles under his green eyes. They were a product of restless nights spurred on by nightmares- the only problem for Kevin was that the nightmares weren't only when he was asleep. The only difference was that the nightmares he had when he was awake were called flashbacks instead.

Andrew's eyes snapped back to Kevin's. "Bullshit, Kevin." He said, voice angrier. "You think I'm broken, just like Wymack does." 

Kevin folded his arms on the table, elbows still in the same place. He had no heat in his gaze or his voice as he said, "Is broken a bad thing?"

"Yes." Andrew hissed, suddenly all heat. He stood suddenly, pushing the tray of food towards Kevin and making for the door. Kevin sighed and got up, realizing this was another blonde grease fire he had just dumped water on. 

"Andrew!" Kevin called and flicked a few dollar bills from his pocket onto the table to make up for leaving the tray there before running out after his shorter companion. Kevin caught up to him right before Andrew could reach the Maserati. He made the mistake, however, of touching Andrew's shoulder. The shorter boy spun around and instinctively swung at Kevin's face. Andrew's fist collided with Kevin's jawbone with a quiet crunching sound.

Andrew didn't move to help him up or apologize when Kevin hit the ground, but he knew it was just ingrained into him to punch things that unpromptedly touched him. It had been Kevin's carelessness, not Andrews anger, that had gotten him hit. Both of them knew that.

Once the taller boy reached his feet again, he was grateful to find Andrew still standing in front of him, looking furious. Kevin rubbed his jaw, cursing lightly. 

"Broken isn't bad, Andrew."

"Fuck you." He hissed, venomous as a copper mouth. "If broken isn't bad, why is everyone trying to fix me without giving a shit about how I feel about it?" 

Kevin drew his eyebrows in. "What do you-"

"I mean," Andrew interrupted, "that all of the shit people are supposedly doing to help me is just making me less dangerous. Like I'm the one at fault for my fucking instincts."

Kevin blinked. "I don't blame you for your instincts, Andrew."

"Sure," Andrew agreed. "But everyone else does."

"That's because they don't know you. They don't know your past." Kevin replied, face contorted with worry. "Everone else doesn't know anything."

There was another long silence and Andrew broke the tense eye contact to watch cars pass. Kevin didn't mind how long it took Andrew to talk. He knew when that happened, Andrew was working on himself. Improving the world in his head by reprogramming his responses. The Andrew that Kevin had first met would have angrily exploded at him two milliseconds after the words left Kevin's lips, maybe even hit him on purpose this time. This Andrew - the real one, the one Kevin liked best - was taking his time. He was trying.

After a very long while, 6 minutes at the least, Andrew said, "Aaron knows."

"Yes, he does," Kevin replied, tone cautious and confused. "What has that got to do with it?"

"He still blames me," Andrew said. It didn't sound like a realization, it sounded like a fact. A group of schoolchildren telling you what 10 times 10 was, only darker and filled with hate. 

"He's still bitter." Kevin countered. "With reason." 

Andrew looked ready to hit him again. Kevin held his hands up, the universal sign for "whoa, boy". 

"He didn't know that what she was doing was wrong." Kevin amended his words quickly before Andrews' fists began to fly again. "There's a reason he didn't leave before what happened. People respond to trauma differently. Aarons brain decided he had to side with her."

Andrew shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked away again. "Does that mean I'm not allowed to hate him?"

Kevin sighed. "You don't want to be blamed for the way your brain is because of the people who hurt you. Don't be a hypocrite." He accidentally let a little bit of heat slip into his last sentence, but it seemed to flip whatever switch he had been trying to flip. The argument was over. He could tell by the way Andrews' shoulders seemed to sag.

They got into the Maserati.


End file.
